Consequences (Majaos Book 2)

by Gary Stringer

  Artisho shook his head. “You just don't understand. I don't need to fight you, power against power to defeat you. There are other ways, other strategies.”

  “Strategy?” Niltsiar barked a laugh. “Don’t talk to me about strategy! I could always defeat you at chess, old man.” In a heartbeat, the powerful, anguished battle mage was gone. His eyes glazed over and he became once more the scatterbrained old man, Artisho. “Chess?” He wondered in confusion. “Who said anything about playing chess?” He tapped his staff on the ground in the manner of old men seeking attention. “Chess indeed! Humph! Boring game anyway,” he muttered. “I'm playing poker,” he announced, “and I have an ace up my sleeve!”

  Out of nowhere, a bronze dragon materialised in the air above them - it was Brash, coughing a magical cloud of toxic gas at his enemies below. Being magically directed, the cloud only affected those his mind targeted as his enemies. Taken completely by surprise, both Akar-Sel and Niltsiar were soon coughing and preparing hasty counter-spells. Drizdar took full advantage of Akar-Sel's distraction, ceasing his lightning attack whilst simultaneously teleporting to one side where this time he trapped his opponent within a cylindrical cage of fire. The walls contracted, searing and burning the renegade. Drizdar continued to press home his advantage relentlessly, mercilessly.

  “Now then,” A rtisho continued, examining the playing cards he had just taken out of a pocket in his robes along with an ace from his left sleeve. “If I add that to my two royal pairs...” Two silver dragons materialised, complete with gold-armoured riders, joined a split second later by a lightningspitting pair of blues ridden by Dark Knights. “...Yes, I would say that gives me a winning hand.

  “Rochelle?” He called out the gnome ran out of hiding to his side. “I'd say it's time we were going, wouldn't you?”

  Rochelle nodded, unable to speak. Artisho snapped his fingers and they were both teleported onto Brash's back in mid-air. Only yesterday, Rochelle knew she would have been greatly impressed by such precision teleportation, but after the last few minutes, it seemed entirely mundane and ordinary.

  “How did you know the dragons were coming?” Rochelle asked as the bronze sped them on a course for the Paladinian Knights' barracks.

  Artisho tapped her on the head with his staff. “Weren't you paying attention back there? This is high drama, my girl. And you know the secret to high drama, don’t you? Just like comedy…

  “...It's all a matter of timing!” Brash strained every muscle and sinew to achieve his best possible flight speed. Bronzes were not such fast flyers as silvers, but desperation gave him extra pace. He couldn't keep this up for long, but that wasn't important. All he needed was to get away from the immediate vicinity as quickly as possible.

  Rochelle's stomach wasn't enjoying the experience, and shegave it voice to complain, “Can't we slow down a bit now?”

  “Unwise,” Artisho advised. “Even dragons won't keep Niltsiar at bay for long, I'm afraid.” As if to prove the old man's point, the air above the Great Library ignited and four charred objects streaked down to hit the ground like a meteor shower. Brash was thankfully outside the blast radius...but not by much.

  “Timing indeed!” Rochelle breathed. “How-?” The after-effects of the explosive spell snatched her question away from her. First, they caught some severe air turbulence, throwing Brash's flight rhythm off. Then the sudden change in local temperatures made the air thin. The bronze fought, faltered and stalled, trying in vain to catch suitable air currents, but they proved elusive as he plummeted, spinning towards the ground.

  Chapter 19

  “A dragon predator?” Suddenly alert, heart accelerating with fear and dread, Phaer had to stop himself from physically grabbing Loric and shaking the details out of him. “What was it like? Describe it!Don't ask why; just tell me! Quickly!”

  Loric obliged and Phaer sank down onto the ground as if all strength had faded from his legs. Shaking his head, he muttered, “What have we done? It's madness; utter madness. Not enough that `She` is back, now she hasa pet as well.”

  “Pet? What are you talking about?” Loric demanded.

  “No, it's no good,” Phaer said in despair. “It's all coming apart, all of it, the whole world. How can we possibly fight this?” Unlike the ranger, Loric did not trouble himself to hold back. With a burst of anger and speed, he picked the halfelf up off the ground and threw him around, roaring. “You know something about this, don't you? You know and you're not telling us! Well you are going to tell me! You're going to tell me now or I swear I'll kill you where you stand!”

  “Hey!” Phaer protested. “Let me go! What the abyss has got into you?”

  “This is way beyond your little secrets, half-elf! Callie's life is at stake!”

  “Callie?”

  “Yes, Callie - Calandra - you remember her? She was injured when that thing attacked! She saved my life and her reward? Paralysed!” He spat the word.

  “What?!” The others gasped. “That's right - her spine snapped and now she can't move. She's a silver dragon - she bleongs in the sky, finding joy in flight and now she can't even walk, can't even stand. And by all the gods and demons I will find a way to help her but first I need to get past that...that...monster out there. And you,” he yanked Phaer roughly to his feet once more, “are going to tell me everything y ou know about it!”

  “Alright! Alright!” Phaer agreed. “But let me be clear,” he warned, setting his jaw. “Don't even think about laying your paws on me like that again, or you're going to lose them!” Loric growled and went for his sword, only to remember he had surrendered it to the Knights as a show of his peaceful intentions. Sir Marcus now held it and the Black Dragon gave him a meaningful look.

  “Far be it from me,” he said, “to interfere in your private dispute, and of course your blade is yours whenever you wish, but if Phaer has information you require, I'd suggest you let him share it before you cut out his tongue.”

  “Stay your hand, Loric,” intoned the Knight Lady, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Control the Fire Rage.”

  “Control the what?” Bunny wondered.

  “Later,” Loric insisted, although Bunny wasn’t looking at him, she was staring intently at the Knight Lady. Her words had a remarkable impact on the Black Dragon, cutting through his anger, as a lifeline to his reasoning. With an acknowledging bow of the head, he took a firm grip on his fraught emotions and took a step back from Phaer.

  “Thank you, My Lady,” said the ranger.

  She smiled serenely but said nothing.

  The Supreme Knight Commander asked if they needed privacy, but Phaer shook his head.

  “Actually, Sir Marcus, given that you have dragons in your Knighthood, you need to hear this, too.”

  Popping his neck, menacingly, Loric simply said, “Speak.”

  And so, once again, Phaer– half breed and outcast of the House of the Fountain - secretive by nature and necessity, prepared himself to give another lecture on the dark elves.

  * * * * * It was well known that the dark elves were driven by the belief that they were the supreme race on Majaos and all other races were inferior. In fact, Phaer explained, it went even deeper than that. Ultimately, it was their desire and intent to become the only sentient race on Majaos, other than perhaps keeping a few as slaves or caged in a zoo. The dark elves would think nothing of slaughtering all other races, hunting them down to extinction. They saw it as their duty to `restore` the world to a state in which elves were the only sentient life. Indeed, they referred to it as The Restoration. In Ancient times, the dark elves grew so powerful that at their peak, under Niltsiar - their god - the possibility that they might succeed was very real. The biggest stumbling blocks they could see back then were the dragons. This drove them to certain magical experiments in an attempt to create animals that would become dark elf weapons against the wyrms.

  “The basilisk we encountered earlier,” Phaer told his audience, “was one of the few viable creatures to come ou
t of these experiments.”

  “Then the basilisk that we allowed to go merrily on its way is a dragon predator?” Tanya wondered.

  “No,” Phaer replied, firmly. “As I understand it, the basilisks were by-products of the process, nothing more.”

  “That's one hell of a by-product!” Bunny remarked, sullenly. Discussions of the magical creation of life forms to be used as weapons made her uncomfortable, hitting rather too close to home. “When I was a little girl,” Tanya offered, “I grew up on a ranch where my mother and father were heavily involved with breeding horses. It had been a family occupation for generations, aiming to produce larger, sturdier cart and plough horses for farming. As a by-product, they also created a breed of sleek, fast, strongbacked horses that proved to be excellent warhorses. Lightning here,” she patted her mount's neck, “is of that breed. Are we talking about something similar with the dark elves' breeding programme?”

  “Yes,” Phaer agreed, impressed with her insight. “That's a very good analogy. The basilisks were not what the dark elves wanted to create, but they proved to be `useful sport` so they were not destroyed. My people waste nothing that might be useful.”

  “So what can you tell us about the finished product?” Loric demanded, patience wearing too thin to tolerate all this talk when they needed action. “That thing that's out there now?”

  “Not much, I'm afraid.”

  “What!” “Hey!” The ranger protested. “Like I seem to have been telling the world lately, all this is half-heard stories, myth wrapped up in legend and sprinkled with a good helping of dark elf selfdelusion, blind faith, politics and propaganda. I was basically a slave, growing up - and expected to be grateful for that much. As such, I was not exactly privy to the latest goings on at court or thoroughly educated in the classics!”

  Once again, Sir Marcus' Lady Consort laid a gentle hand on the Black Dragon's shoulder and soothed his temper. To Phaer, she said, simply. “Please, friend, tell us what you can.” “Of course, Great Lady.” Phaer bowed...he wasn't sure why, it just felt right. “ I presumed all those aberrations were destroyed,” he resumed, “but it seems that one survived. Perhaps an egg that lay dormant until Niltsiar came along to give it a biological nudge.”

  “Then you're convinced she is behind this?” Sir Marcus asked.

  Phaershrugged. “It's a hell of a coincidence if she's not.”

  “Can you be sure there is but one?” The Lady asked. “Not completely sure, no, but there were never more than a dozen created in the first place and, as I say, even the most prideful and arrogant of dark elves believe none survived. So the probability of there being more than one is negligible.

  “Now, clearly, Loric knows more about the creature's physical abilities than I do, having witnessed it first hand, but there’s one vitally important aspect to the creature that you must remember: it is immune to all magic, even dragon breath weapons.”

  “Like the Basilisk,” Tanya offered. “It reacted very badly to Bernice's sorcery.”

  “You're not kidding!” Bunny remarked. But Phaer shook his head. “It's more tha n that. If you tried that against the dragon predator, you'd be dead. You see, it's not just resistant, it's magically reflective and the reflection is magnified, so even a minor offensive spell would be lethal to the caster. Those illusory blades of yours would have buried themselves in your brain and twisted until you died an excruciating death. As far as I know, there is no defence apart from the obvious: use your head; don't use magic.”

  Loric cast his mind back to the fierce red dragon that had been caught by the vicious creature. Pinned against the barrier surrounding the entry to the Fire Realm, it had unleashed a blast of flame of unimaginable power. The monster had been untouched while the dragon's face melted...and red dragons were immune to fire.

  “That’s all I know,” Phaer concluded. “It’s not much, but there you are.”

  “Well, it’s more than the rest of us knew before,” Loric admitted, somewhat grudgingly. “Loric,” Phaer said at last, “if you're planning to fight this creature, I'd normally advis e against it,” he warned. “But for Calandra's sake, I understand you have to try. You shouldn't do it alone, though. If you'll let me ride on your back, I'm prepared to come with you, do some reconnaissance. Maybe seeing the creature first hand will drag out some useful bit of memory that eludes me right now.”

  “Thank you, my friend,” Loric said, all hostility past and forgotten.

  “You can't do that, you stupid half-elf halfwit!” Bunny objected, physically knocking Phaer back a step.

  “Excuse me?” Phaer returned, taking real exception to her use of violence. “Think about it before you go off on some wild, romantic notion.” She lowered her voice to add, “The last one you had about saving your people didn't go too well, remember?” Back to a more normal volume, she concluded, “If that thing out there can kill dragons so easily, I dread to think what it might do to you! And believe me, I won't be talking any dragon predator out of eating you - I'm good, but even I have limits!”

  “Honestly, I don't think I'd be in any danger.”

  “Oh really?”

  If sarcasm were water, he would have been soaked to the skin.

  “Yes, really. It kills dragons because that is what it is designed to do, but it wouldn't view humans and elves as a threat.”

  “Are you saying it wouldn't have attacked Callie and me if we hadn't changed to dragon form?” Loric wondered. “No, I'm not suggesting that at all. It would have recognised you as dragons no matter what form you took. You can't hide from it that easily, I'm afraid. My people thought of that. But as for me, who knows? It might even recognise me as a dark elf. That could prove extremely useful. I can't be sure, of course, but I'm willing to try.”

  “When the time comes,” Loric assured the ranger, “I'll be glad of any help you can offer, but right now I've got to get back to my own quest. I've got reason to believe it'll hone my skills and give me the best chance of defeating that...that...”

  “Atrocity of creation?” Bunny supplied, helpfully.

  “Exactly,” Loric grunted.

  Been called that myself, on occasion, she thought.

  Phaer’s Sir Marcus's Consort spoke up then. “You were going to tell us about this quest of yours, great dragon?” she prompted.

  Bunny was suspicious of this massaging of Loric's ego, but said nothing.

  “You’re right; it’s time I told you.” And so he explained about the Penta Drauka quest and how he had fulfilled the first part of five. “Before I got pulled down here,” he concluded. “I was searching for the Elder Dragon of Air, so I could work on the second part. Dammit all!” he swore. “We're still no nearer to figuring out why I was forced to land here in the first place,” he remembered.

  “On the contrary, O Black Dragon of Avidon,” smoothed the Lady. “I believe we know precisely why that happened.”

  Sir Marcus looked worried. “My dear,” he began, “are you sure this is wise? Especially with what we've just learned.” Gently, tenderly she stroked his cheek with her soft, small hand and declared, solemnly. “Thank you for your concern, my love, but as our honoured guest rightly puts it: this is a dragon thing. I have my duty. You of all people can understand that.”

  “Better than anyone,” he replied, in a voice filled with resignation and regret, but also pride and passion.

  “I thought so!” Bunny piped up. “You’re a dragon, aren’t you?”

  “What?!” Her friends demanded.

  “Oh, come on, that much is obvious. It’s the rest of it I can’t figure out.”

  “The rest of it?” Loric wondered.

  “Your insight is sharp, sumorityl,” came the Knight Lady’s reply. “I hope it always serves you well.” Bernice shrugged; she had no intention of getting side-tracked by a compliment. She'd played that card enough times herself, after all. “It's kept me alive so far,” she allowed. “Now, you were saying...?”

  “Very well. You ask what I am; I
will show you.” She wa lked a short distance away from the group and then light shimmered all around her as she stretched, grew and re-formed into a younglooking dragon with a dazzling blend of sparkling sapphire, shining silver and midnight blue scales.

  Drawing on his uniqueexperience, Loric understood instantly: he had found, “The Elder Dragon of Air.”

  “Say, aren't you a little young to be an Elder Dragon?” Bunny asked.

  Phaer nudged her and whispered, “Have you no respect for anything?”

  “What? I'm just asking a question.”

  “And a perfectly fair one,” Loric growled in agreement. “The last Elder I met looked the part a bit more!”

  The ranger rolled his eyes. “You two have all the diplomatic skills of a pair of raging bulls.”

  “It's a valid question,” Bunny insisted.

  “It's not so much what you say,” Phaer explained, “as how you say it.”

  “Don't worry, ranger,” the silver-bluesapphire dragon assured him. “I'm not offended. In fact I appreciate plain speaking.”

  Bunny promptly stuck her tongue out at her companion.

  The silver-blue-sapphire dragon collected her thoughts and explained the nature of the five Elder Dragons of Majaos.

  * * * * * The magical essence of the five Elder Dragons had existed before there was any mortal life on Majaos, but their individual bodily representatives had changed several times. The essence moved from one dragon to another when the old Elder died - like all dragons, either through fatal accident, battle, or just boredom. It was not a question of `taking over` a sentient body, but more a kind of symbiotic merging. She herself could remember being the previous incarnation of the Elder of Air, but she could also recall being the vicious blue dragon that attacked her. There had been four attackers in all, who ambushed what they saw as a freak dragon. The Elder had managed to outsmart, out fly and out-manoeuvre three of them, ultimately killing them. But the last one somehow caught the Elder